The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes - Jamyang Norbu [39]
Around three o'clock in the morning I was rudely woken from my slumbers by a tremendous commotion from the neighbouring carriage — even afire-arm being discharged. Probably the tommies had had too much to drink and were, as usual, being obstreperous and a disgrace to their uniforms. Someone also seemed to be yelling something, in Hindustani, but I could not be sure. After a while the uproar subsided and gentle Morpheus once more enfolded me into his embrace. But just before falling asleep I thought I heard Sherlock Holmes chuckling to himself in the darkness of the carriage.
I awoke to find Mr Holmes up in his purple dressing gown, smoking his pipe and reading The Times of India, while a railway bearer in white livery was serving breakfast on the raised drop-leaf table.
'Good morning, Huree,' said Holmes, turning a page of the newspaper. 'I trust you are well rested.'
'Oh yes, Mr Holmes. I slept like a baby. Only the bally hullabaloo in the next carriage disturbed my slumber somewhat. Surely it woke you up too, Sir?'
'Babuji!' said the bearer, who had, rather impertinently, been listening in on our conversation.'Last night two dacoits broke into the next carriage.'
'How did you know that?' I asked in the vernacular.
'Babuji, I entered this rail-ghari with chota-hazris at Jalgaon junction early this morning. There policewallahs took one dacoit from the next carriage. The ticket-babu told me that two dacoits had tried to rob a carriage full of Angrezi soldiers. Hai! Bewakoofi On learning their mistake, one fool jumped out of the window. The other was shot in the leg by a soldier sahib's bundook. I must go now to serve other hazris.'
'It is dashed unusual of dacoits to enter a carriage full of armed soldiers,' I mused, after translating the waiter's story to Mr Holmes. 'Generally, criminals of this sort are more careful and prepared in their enterprises.'
But Mr Holmes did not seem to share my doubts. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
'By Jove, Mr Holmes,' I exclaimed, 'I perceive you have a fair idea about the matter. I beg of you not to perpetuate my ignorance.'
'Well,' said he, putting away his newspaper, 'it all begins with the drawing of an open hand. Remember I asked you last night what it might mean.'
'Yes, Sir. I told you it was the symbol of Kali.'
'I noticed such a sketch done in chalk, on the side of our carriage, just before the train left the station at Bombay.'
'But I saw nothing.'
'You saw, but you did not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you must have made hundreds of train journeys, and frequently seen the wheels on the carriages.'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Then how many are there on each carriage?'
'How many? Four, I suppose. I cannot be sure.'
'Quite so! You have not observed. Yet you have seen. That is my point. Now I know that there are eight wheels on every carriage because I have both seen and observed. But getting back to the subject at hand: when I first saw the drawing I knew that it could only be either one of two things: a child's innocent scrawl, or a mark left for some definite purpose. When you informed me that the handprint was a symbol of the goddess Kali, and consequently of the Thugee cult, I knew that the game was up and our flight had been discovered.'
'But who could have done it? Mr Strickland only made reservations for our compartment just before the train came into the station, and we have been inside the carriage ever since then.'
'It could have been any one of those beggars clinging to our carriage windows. Probably Moran had taken the precaution of having watchers at the station, just in case I made a bolt for it.'
'Probably Ferret-Face was one of the watchers, Sir.'
'It is more probable that he was the organiser, and had a number of watchers covering various places at the station and reporting